


And So It Goes

by FlyingwithRavens



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Best Friends, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Possibly Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-28
Updated: 2019-07-03
Packaged: 2020-05-28 07:28:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19389358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlyingwithRavens/pseuds/FlyingwithRavens
Summary: Katniss and Peeta have been best friends their whole lives. They share everything. Except one huge secret. Katniss has been in love with him for as long as she can remember. There's only one problem: Peeta isn't interested. Could a trip to Cape Cod finally change that?





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! To be honest, I'm unsure how long this story is going to be. It's rated E because there will be smut in later chapters, if not the next chapter, so be prepared! If that's not for you, I'd turn back now. Feedback is of course welcomed; any bit of advice would help me out here. I'd love to know your thoughts and opinions on the Peeta/Katniss relationship! Thanks for reading!

Katniss Everdeen had been friends with Peeta Mellark for as long as she could remember. Their parents moved next door to each other before the two of them were born, and even though he was six months older than she was, they had been side by side seemingly since the moment she entered the world. 

He was her ally. Her protector. Her safe place to land. Her confidant. And her very best friend. When Glimmer Harrington and Clove France made fun of her for being too skinny, and pulled on the baggy clothes she wore, Peeta was there. He stood up for her. She’d never know exactly what happened when he marched over to talk to them, but whatever it was must’ve worked, because they never bothered her again. When she got overly excited and spilled her mug of hot chocolate, Peeta gave her his. He was always there to make things okay again. Every scrape, every bruise, every tear – he wiped all of that away. When they were eight, and she crashed hard onto the sidewalk after a nasty fall from her bike, he took her bloody, banged up arm gently in his hands and kissed every little cut he could find. 

“It’s what my daddy does for me,” he said by way of explanation. That was Peeta’s way. He was kind and sensitive and too good for the world. He never had a bad word to say about anybody, and Katniss knew, no matter the tragedy, that he would always be there to catch her. He was there the awful night of her father’s death, too. The moment he found out, he was at her door, ready to hold her in his arms. Until his arrival she had been silent, stunned to speechlessness. Her emotions were bottling inside her so deeply that she began to fear they might never come out again. But the second Peeta’s arms wrapped around her, it all came loose, and she howled in pain and heartbreak and grief until morning. Without him, she didn’t know how she would’ve survived. 

And then they hit puberty. For a while, it seemed as though nothing would change. He was her ally. Her protector. Her safe place to land. Her confidant. Her best friend. Only now he had a little more muscle. The platinum of his hair darkened to a stunning ash blonde. He replaced his Harry Potter glasses with contacts, and now, whenever he looked at her, she was met with the full force of his blue eyes. He abandoned little boy clothes and opted for tighter fitting jeans and shirts, and a more mature look. His baby fat was trimmed away, little by little, until there was none left. 

All of a sudden, right under her nose, silly, goofy, geeky Peeta Mellark became a man. An attractive man. And, though she tried to deny it, Katniss was utterly, hopelessly, in love with him. There was only one problem – he didn’t return her feelings. And why would he? Nothing had changed about her. 

She was still the same thin girl she’d always been. Her hair was in the same braid. Her clothes tightened only fractionally, whenever she bothered to buy new ones. Her eyes were the same shade of grey. There was nothing special about her. Nothing that turned heads. Nothing worth making Peeta look her way, at least in any way different than he had before. 

For a while, she held out a small flicker of hope that maybe she was wrong. Maybe his affections for her went deeper than she believed. When his mother walked out on their family, he came straight to her. They laid together in bed all night watching re-runs of "Friends", just holding each other. 

After that, it became ritual for them to spend nights in each other’s arms. He would ease out of his bedroom window and down their trellis, before winding his way up the ladder that rested against her rooftop. She’d let him in through her window and for the rest of the night they had each other. Nothing ever happened though. They had a bed, privacy, and all the time in the world every single night. They were horny teenagers. How had nothing ever happened? Simple. Peeta didn’t feel that way about her. He never would. 

So, she gave up on it. She put her feelings for him on a backburner (if there was such a thing) and set about finding someone to relieve the throbbing ache between her legs. She never told Peeta any of this, of course. How could she? It would’ve ruined their friendship. But when she showed up at his house, only to find him busy talking on the phone to Cashmere Randolph, her worst fears were confirmed. Once they started dating, she found herself sleeping alone. 

Enter Gale Hawthorne. Katniss had known Gale for a number of years. Their fathers had been hunting buddies, and when the ice collapsed from beneath them on an ice fishing trip, they had both perished. The two of them bonded after that. On Sundays, when Peeta worked his morning shift in his family's bakery, the two of them would go fishing, or hiking, or running together. Whatever activity suited them best. She liked the quiet, fiery competition she found in Gale. He tested her. He egged her on. And, as the years passed, he too became more beautiful than she ever could’ve imagined. Lean and dark haired, with silver eyes like a wolf’s fur and a strong, stubbly jaw. 

Katniss liked Gale. And it became more than obvious that Gale liked her. Peeta, however, did not like Gale. In fact, he might have been the only person on Earth that Peeta didn’t like. Katniss never understood why, but she knew better than to pry. She figured that if Peeta was going to like every single person he met, and be unfailingly kind too, that he was entitled at least one person to dislike. Fair was fair. 

Besides, Katniss hated Cashmere. In fact, she nothing short of despised her for taking Peeta out of arm’s reach. Katniss tried not to think of Peeta kissing her. Touching her. Brushing her hair behind her ear. Letting his hand wander down and curl between her legs. Just the idea of it boiled Katniss’ blood. 

And it did nothing to quench the fire in her belly each night. She needed relief. So, she took Gale up on one of his many advances, without even telling Peeta, and invited him into her bed instead. They had just been getting to the good part when it happened. Her shirt was on the floor, and the ridiculous black lace bra she bought for the occasion was exposed to the room. His pants were at his ankles. He was kissing the sweet spot on her neck and letting his hands trail down to where she wanted them most. It felt amazing, and she tried not to think about how much more amazing it would feel if it were Peeta. 

Then, as if she had called his name, he appeared at her window. “Katniss?” He was clearly stunned to find her half naked with another boy on her bed, dangerously close to losing her virginity. “What are you doing?” 

It seemed very obvious what she was doing. His mouth dropped open and a deep red blush colored his cheeks. “What are you doing here?” She hissed. It had been months since Peeta bothered to drop in unannounced, especially at her bedroom window. Ever since he started dating Cashmere, their visits were planned and always took place in public. He didn’t even invite her over for dinner. So why was he barging in now? 

By that point, Gale had recovered his sensibilities. He angled his torso to block her exposed chest from Peeta’s view and barked, “Get out of here, man!” 

Peeta’s face ran through a number of different emotions, but by the time he began to back away, Katniss could see his angelic features clearly fixed in anger. Not hurt or disappointment or jealousy. Just anger. He didn’t have any feelings for her. He just hated Gale Hawthorne. That was it. 

Katniss didn’t lose her virginity that night. But she did find out, after Gale left, that Peeta and Cashmere had broken up. Or rather, that she had cheated on him. For the first time in months, she let Peeta into her window and into her bed. He didn’t ask about Gale, and she didn’t try to explain. 

Things picked up where they left off after that. They resumed their friendship. Katniss lost her virginity to Gale in a lakeside cabin one frosty winter night. Peeta started talking to sweet, gentle Madge, the Mayor’s daughter. She was kind and sensitive, always hiding behind a candy apple blush, and even Katniss couldn’t pretend to hate her. She was perfect for Peeta. And Peeta was just… perfect. 

How could any girl not fall head over heels in love with him?

Katniss stopped inviting Peeta into her room after she started sleeping with Gale. They were never official. She never owed him anything. But something about cuddling with Peeta on the same sheets where she fucked Gale seemed wrong. Even if it was just fucking. They never made love. It was always intense, slick with sweat and breathless with exertion, and Katniss always finished feeling mostly satisfied. But that was as far as it went. At least for her. 

Eventually, they graduated high school. Gale, a year her senior, had already been gone for a year. Katniss enrolled in the best public university their state had to offer, at the flagship campus an hour and a half from home, and Peeta was quick to follow suit. “Anything to avoid a life of baking with my brothers,” he had explained. “Besides, they have a good art program.”

Katniss would never say so, but it warmed her inside when he decided to go with her. She could never stand to be so far from Peeta. Of course, Madge’s school across the country also had a good art program, probably even better than the one at UPanem, but Peeta just shrugged it off. “Are you sure?” Madge said when the three of them were eating lunch one afternoon of senior year, “Capitol’s art program is world renowned… I just know you’d do well there, Peeta.” 

He smiled at her, brushing his fingers along the side of her face, and for one sick, awful moment, Katniss thought she might’ve changed his mind. But he simply popped an apple slice in his mouth and said, “It’s a little far from home for my taste. Sorry, love.” 

It never got easier to watch the two of them together, and Katniss was grateful for the reprieve that college would offer her. She would finally have Peeta to herself again, regardless of whether or not it was how she wanted. If friendship was all he’d ever offer, then she would take it gladly. 

With Gale gone, though, her senior year was incredibly lonely. More nights than not, her fingers drifted below her waistband to seek pleasure she so desperately missed in his absence. Except it wasn’t Gale who consumed her thoughts. In every fantasy, try as she might to resist, it was always Peeta’s strong arms winding around her, touching her. Always his lips. Always his hands. 

But she knew it would never come to fruition. 

Things got easier when they left for college. Peeta bid Madge a tearful goodbye at the airport, kissing her, murmuring in her ear, and Katniss tried not to feel like too much of an intruder on their private moment. He promised to call her every day, and even send and old school letter or two, but even Katniss knew that no amount of texting could ever fill the void she would leave in his heart. She hated to see him hurt, but she wasn’t upset to see Madge go. 

Gale left again after summer was up, and that too, despite Madge’s departure, lifted Peeta’s spirits. The night before they left for college, he crawled into her bedroom, if only for old time’s sake. “I’m glad he’s gone,” he told her, sliding his arm beneath her shoulder blades and holding her close. “He rubs me the wrong way.” 

Katniss tried to remain indifferent to the way his hand set her skin on fire. “I like him,” she whispered, flipping through the titles on Netflix. 

Peeta bristled. “Do you like him, or do you like what he does to your body?” 

She reared back and tried to hide the blush pinkening her cheeks. “He’s just a fuck buddy, Peeta.” Why did it matter to him? He had Madge to warm his bed, with her soft yellow sweaters and gently sloping curves. She was perfect, with hair like honey and skin like milk, same as Peeta. They were a matched set. 

However, when Peeta spoke again, she was surprised to find anger in his voice. If anything, he should’ve been glad that Katniss felt little for the boy he so obviously hated. “Fuck buddies,” he said distastefully. “You deserve better than that. You deserve love. Not some guy that just… just fucks you and uses your body and calls it a night.” 

Katniss couldn’t help the bitterness in her reply. Who was he to comment on her love life, with his perfect girlfriend and perfect love and perfect relationship? Not everyone could have the person they wanted. Some people had to make do with something less. “I’m not some helpless lamb, Peeta. He doesn’t use me. I don’t let him. If anything… if anything it’s me that uses him.” The righteousness she started with faded when she saw the change in his eyes. They melted from hardened anger to a liquid intensity she couldn’t place… was he disgusted with her? All at once, she felt the urge to defend herself. “I’m only human. I have needs too. Not all of us have a pretty girlfriend to rely on. There’s only so long I can go without… some things.” 

Peeta closed his eyes and swallowed audibly. “Why him, Katniss? What’s so special about him?” 

Katniss had no real answer for that, so she settled on the only thing she knew would shut him up. “What’s so special about Madge?” He never spoke of his relationship with her, beyond the basics. He never gave her details, never shared anecdotes or fears or plans for the future. She knew only what she observed. It looked like love to her. 

Peeta had no answer, just as she suspected. Instead, he leaned over, grabbed the remote from her hand, and switched on an episode of "Friends". They fell asleep in silence that night, their unanswered questions still hanging in the air above them. 

Their first year of college came and went. Peeta was lonely without Madge, but he filled the emptiness as best he could with painting and sculpting in the Rec Center. He became fast friends with his roommate, Finnick Odair, a handsome swimmer from the coast, and though Katniss was wary of him at first, she immediately warmed to his boisterous, flirty nature after meeting his kind hearted girlfriend, Annie. No amount of flashy flirting put their relationship in question. They had been high school sweethearts, same as Peeta and Madge, but they shared an intensity that Katniss had never seen in the other couple. When they looked at each other, it was clear they suddenly lost sight of everyone else. 

The four of them were inseparable all of freshmen year, and that summer they decided to take a trip down to Cape Cod, a few hours east of the university, and spend a week by the beach. By that time, Peeta and Madge were scraping along as best they could. They were still together, but their texts were few and far in-between, and their nightly facetime calls dwindled to once a week. Peeta invited her down the Cape, but Madge was unable to make it home in time and had been forced to decline. Katniss couldn’t say she was upset. 

She had extended an invite to Gale, more out of courtesy than actual desire for him to go, but he had been eager to get home to his family. Besides, they were even less of a thing than they were before. They still sought comfort and companionship in each other whenever they came home, but Katniss had been active in her own right at college, and she suspected Gale was too. 

By the time they left for the Cape, she had been making moves on Darius O’Connor for the past month. He was almost as good in bed as Gale, and she enjoyed the way his thick red hair wove effortlessly between her fingertips when his head was between her legs. Even so, it was too soon to ask him to accompany them, not that she would’ve wanted to anyway. 

That was how it ended up just the four of them. She supposed that was also how she ended up boiling in the passenger seat on Route 495, wind in her hair and the smell of melting pavement in her nose. “I’m going to strangle you if you don’t pull over,” she warned. 

Peeta just laughed and turned the car into a small, woodsy rest area. It was lined with scraggly trees, the kind with thin needles that seemed to flourish in sand, a few blue Port-A-Potties, and some grey picnic tables. Katniss all but sprinted from the car the second he put it in park. Her bladder felt like it was going to explode. 

The laughter of her companions followed her all the way to one of the stinking boxes, and she was glad that she wasn’t squeamish by nature. The stench might’ve been enough to turn her away, and she most certainly would’ve peed her pants if she didn’t find relief soon. She emptied her bladder as fast as humanly possible, squirting a large handful of sanitizer into her palm on the way out. Peeta was standing in the sun stretching, the hem of his blue shirt lifted nearly to his navel. Sweat stained the back and around the neck, and she felt the sweltering 90 degrees closing in on her as she watched him, dry mouthed. 

He smiled when he caught sight of her, the sweaty dimple of his cheek glistening in the sun, and waved her towards him. She hoped the redness of her cheeks didn’t give her away, or that he would mistake it for a slight sunburn, and approached him cautiously. “Did you make it? Need a change of pants?” He joked. 

Katniss shook her head. “Please tell me we’re almost there. I can’t take another minute of your indecisive driving. It’s a highway, Peeta! There’s no need to pump the brakes.” 

“You love it.” 

“It makes me sick.” 

“At least I don’t drive one hundred miles an hour,” he retorted. 

Katniss stuck her tongue out at him, fully aware of how childish the gesture was, and smiled triumphantly when he laughed. He quieted suddenly, and watched her intently for a moment. “Careful, Everdeen,” he said, his voice thick and raspy, “or I’ll grab that tongue, and I won’t let go.” He bypassed her and hopped back in the front seat, causal as ever, completely unaware that he left her speechless in his wake. 

His words always did that. They twisted her insides and warmed them so pleasantly, too pleasantly, and just when she finally felt in control, he was there, confusing her all over again. Reminding her that she wasn’t the master of her own feelings, no matter how much she wanted to be.

Hadn’t it been that way for years? Ever since she showed up on his porch to find him on the phone with Cashmere? Hadn’t she been in his pocket since the moment she was born? Since the moment he took her small hand in his own. She belonged to him, with him, whether she wanted to or not. Whether he wanted her or not. There was no deciding. There was no choice. There was no conscious thought. He called to her, and she came. 

She would follow him anywhere. No questions asked. Even if he never wanted her. And that she was sure of, if nothing else. It was the only thing that stopped her, that had ever stopped her, from catapulting into his arms and ripping the clothes from his body. From baring her heart and soul to him. 

Peeta Mellark would never, ever love her back.


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for the great feedback! Just for clarification, since I realize now I didn’t make the timeline particularly clear, I’d say it’s been about three years since Katniss first started sleeping with Gale, and she’s had two lovers in that time. Peeta has been with Madge for around two years. And of course, this is all from Katniss’ perspective, so we really have no idea what's going on in Peeta’s head/how he’s doing, other than what she observes. Again, thank you guys SO much! It means the world to me. Stuff like that is what keeps me writing :)

They pulled into The Dunes Motor Inn around one p.m., when the sun hung hot and high in the sky. It was the cheapest hotel within what Finnick called “reasonable walking distance” from the ocean, at three tenths of a mile from a public Hyannis beach. It was comprised of two buildings, each with rooms facing the square interior parking lot, connected on the far side by a fenced in concrete pool. The whole place reeked of 70s designing and, by Katniss’ estimate, hadn’t been redecorated since the day it was built. 

But it was well priced and, even better, she got to share a room with Peeta. It was hard to feel negative when faced with the prospect of him so close every night and day for the next week. He pulled into a spot outside the poorly labeled main office and hopped out with the car still running. “Wait here,” he told them, leaning back inside the car door for a moment, “I’ll just be in and out. Keep the AC going for as long as you can.” He shut the door, letting in a heavy blast of oppressively hot air, and disappeared into the grey building. 

Katniss was more than grateful for the air conditioning. The entire East Coast was sandwiched in the middle of a giant heat wave, and it was only supposed to get worse in the coming days. Already, she felt unbearably fatigued and heavy in the overwhelming warmth; it was hard to imagine that it could get any worse. Even Finnick, who always seemed to be comfortable, no matter the weather, was panting slightly in the backseat, one hand fanning his face, the other twisting with Annie’s. Katniss couldn’t imagine the human contact felt nice in the sweltering humidity, but neither one of them seemed to mind. They were always touching, no matter the inconvenience. It was a kind of love she’d never experienced. She couldn’t help but wonder… had Peeta? With Madge? They survived a year across the country from each other, didn’t they? Her presence clearly wasn’t the deciding factor in their relationship. Or was the distinct lack of Madge the real indicator of their strength? Couldn’t she have found any other flights? Where was she? 

Katniss didn’t have long to think it over, because Peeta was already on his way to the car, two sets of old bronze keys dangling from his fingers. He passed them out, one for Annie and Finnick, the other for Katniss. “Won’t you need a set?” She asked.

Peeta shrugged. “I figured that wherever you are, I’ll be there too.” 

Katniss smiled softly and clasped the keys in her palm as though they unlocked something much more precious than an old hotel room. He switched the car off then, and the four of them worked as quickly as possible to unload their luggage and escape to the dark reprieve of their respective rooms. Katniss followed the door numbers up a set of stairs to the second floor, all the way down to the end of the balcony, where Room 34 sat. Her sweaty hands struggled to properly unlock the door, and she was disappointed to find that the AC in the room was switched off and had been for quite some time. It was almost as hot inside as outside. 

“First order of business,” Peeta said, striding across the room in four large steps, “is turning this old clunker on.” It was an apt description. The air conditioner was ancient and bulky, and looked as though it had been repaired one too many times. 

“If this doesn’t work, I’m sleeping in the car,” she said. 

Peeta chuckled, bending down to inspect the unit from a closer proximity. “Don’t be silly. It’ll work. You just need to have a little faith.” The buttons had been pressed so many times it was unclear what their functions were, and the adhesive labels had long been worn away. Peeta squinted in concentration and fumbled with a large circular button near the top of the machine. A long moment passed, and Katniss fought the urge to bang on the top like she would an old remote. Suddenly, the unit lit up a murky green color and whirred to life, blasting a thick stream of stale, but blissfully cold, air into the room. 

Katniss nearly cried out in relief and sank down in front of it, taking the full force of the dusty air on her face and neck. “Thank fucking God.” 

Peeta laughed and bent to his knees beside her, a small sigh escaping his lips when the cool air touched his face. “I told you it would work,” he said, turning to her with a small half smile. She felt it deep in the pit of her belly, and the warmth rising up her chest had nothing to do with any heat wave. The cool air blew waves of musty hotel air into her face, but mixed with the smells of dust and cleaner was something else – something distinctly Peeta. He smelled like cinnamon and cologne, and no sooner than the full force of it hit her was she throwing herself backwards onto one of the beds. 

Peeta looked slightly startled as he spun to face her. “I take it you’ve claimed your bed?” 

Katniss just nodded and patted the comforter beside her. “Yep… this one looked comfiest.” He crossed the room silently and sat down on the far bed, closest to the door, smiling. “What, no smarmy comment?” 

Peeta shrugged and opened his arms, palms up. “I just feel bad for you.” 

“Why…?” 

“Because when I blow up the bathroom every morning, you’re the one that’s gonna be smelling it.” He smiled cheekily at her, standing up and dropping his duffle bag on the bed. She tried to think of a smart ass reply as he rifled through his belongings, but before she could choose one, Peeta lifted his shirt over his head and tossed it aside. 

He was flushed from the nape of his neck all the way to his waistband, a light red that ignited every fuse in her body. Her heart thumped uncontrollably as he turned, and she was met with the glorious sight of his chest and stomach. He was toned and well built, but not overly so, with a small smattering of light brown hair that began at his navel and ended somewhere below his waistband, out of sight. He was beautiful. She wanted to lick every inch of him. 

But he belonged to someone else. Someone equally beautiful and equally worthy of love. Someone far less ordinary than simple, boyish Katniss Everdeen. “Are you alright? You look like you’re getting heat stroke.” Peeta’s voice was drenched in concern, and before she could think to stop him, he was crossing the room and pressing one warm, callused hand against her forehead. “You’re on fire, Katniss.” 

His eyebrows bunched together as he carefully inspected her, and Katniss felt like she was choking when his hand left her forehead and settled gently on the side of her neck. “I’m fine, Peeta.” She wheezed, both wanting and not wanting him to move his hand. If he kept it there, she would combust. But if he took it away, she would be empty inside. 

“You don’t sound fine.” 

“Take my word for it.” 

He didn’t look convinced. “Lie down for a moment, okay? I’m going to start a cold shower and get you a bottle of water from the vending machine downstairs. In the meantime, try to cool down, Girl on Fire.” He laid her gently back on the bed, hovering over her for an extra moment. His baby blue eyes searched hers with concern and tenderness as he bracketed himself on the muscles of his arms. The sight was nearly too much for Katniss, and she squeezed her eyes shut to ward off the unwelcome thoughts crowding her brain. Peeta took this as a further sign of her discomfort and disappeared into the bathroom, taking his soft hands and his touch with him. 

Katniss forced herself to take deep breaths. Had it always been this intolerable to be around him? Was it because it was just the two of them? No. It had always just been the two of them. And she had seen Peeta shirtless plenty of times before. What was happening to her? She scrubbed her hands roughly against her face and sat up, looking towards the open bathroom door. The shower sprayed loudly, and even though she wasn’t suffering the way Peeta thought she was, the cool water did sound nice. 

She grabbed some clothes from her duffle bag and shuffled into the bathroom. It was empty – Peeta had gone to the vending machine for a water. Katniss kicked the door shut behind her and stripped down to her bra and underwear, testing the water in her hand. It was cool and icy, the complete antithesis of the boiling weather outside, and even the few drops on her palm brought complete relief. 

She placed her clean clothes on the blue toilet seat and turned towards the mirror, immediately displeased by what she saw. Scraggly, braided hair, with a lion’s mane of baby hairs haloing her face. Watery grey eyes. Plain light blue underwear. A shower would do her some good. She set about the tedious task of unbraiding her hair, and just as she had finished shaking it out behind her neck, the bathroom door opened and she came face to face with a very obviously flustered Peeta. 

“I’m sorry!” He apologized, turning away immediately. “I thought you were in there already and I wanted to leave your water by the sink. I should have knocked.” He thrusted the bottle blindly towards. She could practically feel the embarrassment bleeding off him in waves. 

Gingerly taking the bottle from his hand, she tried not to feel too hurt over his obvious disgust with her body. She already knew he felt no attraction for her. Even so, his lightening quick urge to avert his eyes still stung. He hadn’t meant anything by it. He didn’t even know she felt that way about him. But Katniss knew. “Thanks,” she said, reaching forward to shut the door between them. 

“I’m still sorry,” Peeta said from the other side of the door. 

Katniss couldn’t help her small chuckle. “I know. It’s okay. Honest mistake. See you when I get out.” 

When she reemerged from the bathroom, she felt refreshed, cool, and only slightly less singed by Peeta’s reaction. He was sitting on his bed in a bathing suit and plain white shirt, fiddling with a game on his phone. Once he noticed her entrance, he glanced up and clicked his phone shut. “Feeling better?” 

Katniss nodded. Even though she hadn’t been feeling all that unwell in the first place (at least, not in the way he thought she was), she had to admit that she did feel better. Or at least hydrated. “Yeah, thanks.” 

Peeta shrugged it off. “No problem. Finnick and Annie are waiting for us at the beach whenever you’re ready. He said they found a great spot. Only a few amputated crab legs.” 

Katniss wrinkled her nose in disgust and moved towards the mirror to start braiding her hair. Behind her, Peeta grabbed her duffle bag and sifted quickly through the contents, holding up her burnt orange bathing suit triumphantly. He tossed it onto the bureau beside her and appeared suddenly at her side, watching with intense interest as she plaited the thick wet strands of her hair. “I love watching you braid,” he said. “But your hair is beautiful down, too.” 

She couldn’t help the blush that tinted her cheeks. “It’s just hair, Peeta.” 

“It’s the most interesting shade, though,” he replied, reaching forward to grasp a loose tendril in his hand. “Dark brown, but with bits of red and blonde where the light touches it. Wavy in some places and curly in others. Like it can’t decide what it wants to be. I’ve tried to paint it before, but always from memory… I never get it right. Will you model for me?” 

She wanted to. Really, she did. The idea of him painting her warmed her in all the right places. She had the softest spot in her heart for Peeta, and she would have done anything to make him smile. To make him happy. But the prospect of being stuck in a room with him, in such an intimate, personal setting, while he painted her… she didn’t know if she could do it. Her sister Prim would call her silly for letting such a silly thing get to her. She would tell her that her fears were unfounded. That Peeta was her best friend. That she was in control of her feelings. But it didn’t matter. 

Katniss pulled the strand from his hand and quickly braided the rest of her hair. “You don’t want to paint me,” she told him matter-of-factly, grabbing the bathing suit in her hand and slipping into the bathroom. He followed her to the door, and she sensed the heavy weight of his broad shoulders leaning against it as she changed. 

“Yes, I do.” He countered. 

She yanked the door open, watching as he nearly fell, and felt sorry for catching him off guard. “Sorry,” she told him, stalking past him towards the door to their room. At that moment, she was unsure what she was apologizing for - what had just happened or what she was about to say. “But you can’t paint me. Or… you can’t paint me like that.” 

Peeta looked disgruntled and, though she couldn’t be entirely sure, a little hurt. “Why not?” 

“I’m nothing to look at. I’m nothing pretty. You should paint Madge, if you haven’t already. I’m sure she’d make a wonderful subject. I’m too… ordinary for your paintings.” She turned on her heel and left before he could confirm her thoughts. 

__________________________

Peeta didn’t speak to her after that, but Katniss didn’t mind. It gave her a reprieve, if only briefly, from her increasingly confused feelings. She watched as he swam in the water with Finnick, splashing about like he was drowning; he had never been very graceful. And his choppy paddles and kicks were nothing compared to the streamlined bullet that was Finnick. He was as natural in the water as Peeta with a brush, weaving over and beneath the waves like a dolphin, jetting down beneath the surface for improbable amounts of time. 

Annie hummed beside her, tilting her head towards the sun. Her curls of crimson hair glittered with sweat and sunlight, and she cooled herself with a small handheld fan. “They’re kind of ridiculous, aren’t they?” She said, gesturing to Peeta and Finnick. 

“Mhmm,” Katniss agreed, zeroing in on Peeta. He had Finnick in a headlock just above the waves, and the two of them grunted in mock violence. Peeta had been a wrestler in high school, and Katniss was more than used to his desire to spar. He had even won states in his weight class and taken a stab at the national title. Even after all that time, her pride for him swelled. He excelled at everything he did. Though, Katniss amended as Finnick wrestled free and yanked Peeta beneath the water, he was a truly awful swimmer. 

Annie pushed her toes in the sand and fixed Katniss with a pointed look. “Peeta could do a lot worse than you, you know.” 

“What?” It was hard to believe, seeing how poised and intelligent she was, that people had once labeled Annie as “mad”. But, according to whispers picked up around campus, after her father killed her mother, and then himself, Annie was nearly certifiable. The only survivor of the family attack, other than Annie herself, had been her little brother, but a year later, he drowned when a dam burst above a popular swimming spot. In fact, twenty people died. Annie only survived because she was a miraculously strong swimmer. Apparently, she had been almost non-functional until Finnick started visiting her. He mended her. 

Of course, neither Finnick nor Annie had ever offered up this information themselves, so Katniss had no real way to verify its truth, other than some guilt-ridden internet stalking. But Annie had been known to say odd and out of place things every now and then, or cover her ears and rock back and forth. There was also, of course, the small detail that she never, ever went in the water. 

Katniss searched Annie’s deep green eyes for a hint of insanity and came up empty handed. Annie smiled coyly and glanced from Katniss to Peeta. “I’m serious, Katniss. He could do a hell of a lot worse.” 

“We aren’t together. You know that. He’s with Madge. He’s been with Madge since the end of our junior year.” 

Annie nodded noncommittally. “He’s dating Madge,” she corrected. “But he’s with you.” 

Katniss felt her throat begin to close. If Annie could see her affection for Peeta so clearly, who else could? Did he already know? Is that why things were so weird between them? Was he pulling away? Was he put off by the idea? “You’re wrong.” She tried to sound strong, but it was halfhearted at best. 

“Maybe,” Annie acquiesced. “But I don’t think so. Not about this.” 

“Why are you bringing this up all of a sudden?” Had Katniss done something? Given herself away? Was there a sign on her back? 

Annie shrugged. “I just… I sensed a change in him. A few weeks ago, when he went home for the weekend, something happened.” 

“Did Finnick say something?” 

Annie shook her head. “No. I just felt it.” 

Katniss was incredulous. What the hell was she talking about? Peeta had only gone home for three days, to see his father and brothers. What possibly could have happened in that time to “change” him? Either way, Katniss was glad the change was in him and not her. Perhaps her secret, and their friendship, was still safe. “So, what, his chakras aren’t aligned?”

Annie laughed. “I’m not some shaman, Katniss.” 

“No, but you are really into yoga. And astrology.” 

“Everyone has energy, regardless of whether or not you believe in astrology. Yours is intense. Deep. Honest and clear, even when you think it isn’t. Peeta’s is much softer. He’s sensitive. And unlike you, he has secrets. But before, his presence was calming, if not unsatisfied. Now, he’s restless. Turbulent.” 

Katniss didn’t want to believe her. She was a practical person. If people carried “energy” with them, then she was completely blind to it, and better off because of it. She didn’t have time for mystical senses that may or may not exist. But Annie’s voice was so earnest. So open. She truly believed everything she was saying. 

Hadn’t Katniss herself even noticed a difference in Peeta? Or, at the very least, in their relationship? All at once, he was impossible to be around. The intensity between them had leapt exponentially, as if overnight. 

Or maybe it was just the Cape. Vacation does strange things to people. Katniss turned to Annie. “Peeta has never shown any interest in me, in all the years we’ve been friends.” 

“Or maybe you just haven’t noticed,” she said. 

It couldn’t be true. Katniss knew everything about Peeta. She would have noticed if, somewhere along the way, his feelings for her suddenly changed. If he suddenly loved her the way she always wanted him to. She would have noticed. Right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you guys thought of chapter two! The first chapter jumped around a lot to cover their relationship through the years, but now we're settled with them after their freshmen year of college. Let me know what you guys want to see more (or less) of! Thanks for reading!
> 
> Also, locations and some names of places/things down the Cape have been changed purposefully :) And for anyone who wasn't aware, Cape Cod is the tail end of Massachusetts, east of Boston. It's a popular vacation spot full of beaches and touristy things. Provincetown is the furthest peak of Cape Cod.


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! I wish I had the stamina and concentration to post everyday, but unfortunately this is the best I can do. I will try to be as speedy and consistent as possible between posts, but my brain is pretty fickle, and there's never any guaruntee. Thank you guys so much for all the reviews and kudos! I hope you're all enjoying the story. And I hope this chapter delivers for everyone who was hoping for a little more depth between Katniss and Peeta.

They stayed at the beach for the remainder of the evening, enjoying the sand and cool ocean breeze. Eventually, Peeta tired of swimming and sat quietly at Katniss’ side, eating a bologna sandwich Annie had been fortuitous enough to pack. 

He glanced over at her every now and then as though he wanted to say something, but couldn’t bring himself to do it. She couldn’t tell whether it was because Annie was there or because he simply didn’t want to; either way, she tired of thinking about it rather quickly and ventured down to the water’s edge. 

Finnick was floating peacefully on his back about ten feet out, his eyes directed upwards towards the shimmery blue sky. Cool water lapped at her toes and, just like the shower, her relief was immediate. She waded in further, each step even more pleasant than the last, until she was treading water at Finnick’s side. He startled when a wayward splash crested over his side and flipped off his back. “When did you get here?” 

Katniss straightened her legs and sunk her tip toes into the sand. “Just a few moments ago.” 

Finnick smiled and planted his feet on the ocean floor, standing easily above the surface. The gentle rolling of the oceans nearly toppled Katniss off guard with every cycle, and she found herself envious of Finnick’s extra inches. “I didn’t think you were coming in,” he said, reaching forward to steady her as a particularly large swell passed by. 

“It was getting a little… unbearable up there.” She explained, fully conscious of the way his hands on her arms had virtually no effect on her. That ruled out hormones. Finnick was a bronze God. If her feelings for Peeta could truly be blamed on the uncontrollable workings of her body, then surely Finnick would have spurred some kind of response from her. But there was nothing. 

“Ah,” Finnick said knowingly. “Trouble in paradise?” 

Unbelievable. Could she maintain no shreds of ambiguity? Was she just transparent to everyone and everything? If her dignity survived the trip, she would be more surprised than anyone else. “What are you talking about?” There was always the possibility that he was wrong. That he was just making a joke. Being Finnick. 

He grinned at her. “I’m talking about that delicious tension between you and Peeta-bread.” 

Fuck. “You’re delusional,” she argued. 

“You know, you’re not the first woman to say that to me.” 

Katniss rolled her eyes and paddled away from him. He didn’t let her get far, disappearing beneath the surface and reappearing at her side a few moments later. “Get your own swim space,” she said, pushing him firmly back under the water. He popped up a second later, still grinning. “This is my spot.” 

She pushed him again, but this time he stood his ground, standing resolutely at her side. Sure Finn, she thought, invite yourself into my personal thoughts and feelings. Go right ahead. Apparently, it’s free real estate. 

“You’re so obvious. You have been this whole time. Peeta is the only one that doesn’t see it.” 

“Doesn’t see what?” 

Finnick sobered suddenly, fixing Katniss beneath his green eyes. “That you love him.” 

She had never heard anyone say it out loud. What could she do but backtrack? Admitting it to herself was one thing, but Finnick? Impossible. “Of course I love him. He’s my best friend.” There was truth in her words. He was her best friend. Wasn’t he? Or had she just been ignoring the obvious truth; they were drifting. They had been for a long time. Was her love contributing to that? Could he sense it? 

Finnick shook his head. “You don’t love him like that. You love him the way I love Annie. I’ve known since the first day I met you. You showed up at our dorm looking surly and closed off. I didn’t understand the bond between you two. Then he looked at you, and all of a sudden you were… lighter.” 

Katniss didn’t remember that day very well. She didn’t remember what Peeta said or did. What she was feeling inside. But she believed Finnick, because everything he said at the end was true. When Peeta looked at her, the whole world lightened. Colors were brighter. Songs were more melodic. Food tasted better. There was no denying that. “If you’ve known all this time, why are you bringing it up now?” 

He averted his eyes, splashing water between his hands. “Things are changing. Peeta… he’s…” Finnick trailed off, confliction evident in his tone. “It’s not my place. You’ll have to talk to him.” 

“Even if I ask, he won’t tell me.” 

“Aren’t you two supposed to be best friends?” 

“We are best friends,” she countered. But Finnick didn’t look convinced, and she couldn’t help questioning the validity of her own words. Were they best friends? Could they still be, if she was hiding such a massive secret? If she’d been hiding it for years? Or were they just hanging onto something that didn’t exist. 

“When was the last time the two of you had an honest conversation?” Finnick asked. 

Even Katniss was surprised by her answer. “I don’t know.” 

“Maybe you should.” 

For the rest of the day, Katniss couldn’t get Finnick’s words out of her head. She trailed behind the group as they walked back to the hotel, her eyes skimming over the scenery of the Cape. One story houses with weathered gray clapboard shingles covering the roofs and sides. A pink-orange sunset that seemed to shimmer in the heat. An ice cream shack with a line around the corner. Birds flying overhead on white wings. It was all beautiful and quaint and timeless. She wanted to take it all in. To enjoy it properly. But every time she tried; her eyes kept drifting back to Peeta. 

In some ways, he reminded her of the Cape. He was classic, but not plain. Blonde hair. Shiny white teeth. Blue eyes like a summer sky. They were lighter than other eyes. Where some blue eyes had specs of other colors – of hazel and dark blue and green – his had none. They were the same shade of intense blue from the edge to pupil, with no room for anything else. His beauty was effortless. 

It consumed her. And so did Finnick’s words. When was the last time they had an honest conversation? Usually, whenever disaster struck, they would wait patiently for the other to ride their own feelings out before intruding. Katniss was there when Peeta needed her, but she never pried. And in exchange, he did the same. Eventually, they would talk it out. She would open the door to her feelings and thoughts and insecurities and let him in. In exchange, he gave her insight into the workings of his own mind. But somewhere along the way, she realized, they had stopped doing that. 

The waiting just stretched on and on, followed by nothing. Peeta crawled into her bed, gathered her in his arms, and let his feelings pass him by without ever opening up to her. And she did the same. When had that started? Was there a way back? Or had they grown too used to keeping things to themselves? 

They arrived back at the hotel just after sunset. The sky was dark and dusty. It was a nearly starless night. Peeta was waiting at their door for her. She handed him the keys in silence and let him open the door, following him in. Should she wait for him to say something? Or was that line of thinking the very thing that hurt their friendship in the first place? 

Before she could make a decision, Peeta disappeared into the bathroom. The shower started up a moment later, and she figured her moment was lost. With nothing better to do than wait for her own turn in the bathroom, she sat on the side of her bed and stared aimlessly about the room. It, like the hotel décor outside, hadn’t been updated since the 70s. The carpet was old with yellow and blue stripes. Two walls were painted a light green color that reminded her of vomit and disco. The other two walls were dark wood paneling. Even the bed spreads were an outdated. The cream sheets weren’t too bad, but the teal duvets were, like the green walls, vomit inducing. In fact, the mix of colors and patterns was enough to make her eyes hurt. She stood and started towards the door, but before she made it, the buzzing of her phone drew her back. 

She approached the dresser and was surprised to find that it wasn’t her phone at all. It was Peeta’s. It sat face up next to her own, and before she could think to avert her eyes, a text message from Madge lit up the screen: 

“I just don’t understand.”

Understand what? Katniss grabbed her own phone and dashed out the door before she could see anything else she wasn’t meant to see. Invading Peeta’s privacy on accident was one thing, but sticking around to watch the texts roll in was another entirely. Once she was outside, however, she realized that she didn’t have much of a plan. Or anywhere to go, unless she wanted to walk back to the beach.  


“I just don’t understand.” That could mean anything right? Maybe she read an article she didn’t like. Or heard a song on the radio in another language. Maybe she was cursing fate for keeping the two of them apart for so long. There was a real possibility that the text was harmless and meant absolutely nothing. But after her sudden and cryptic conversations with Annie and Finnick, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was missing something. That Peeta was hiding things from her. What could he be hiding? 

Finnick was right. They didn’t talk anymore. At least, not about anything of substance. Their conversations were limited to comments on the weather and playful jibing at one another’s expense. Maybe this vacation was more than just a fun get away. Maybe it was an opportunity. For what, Katniss wasn’t sure. But if her friendship with Peeta truly was drifting, then she had to fix it before it was too far gone to save. There was nothing, save Prim, that was more important to her than Peeta. Nothing. 

Katniss leaned over the rail of the balcony and stared into the parking lot. It wasn’t a particularly pretty view, but night fall had cooled the air exponentially, and she enjoyed the balmy breeze against her skin. If she hadn’t been so concerned with thoughts of Peeta, it would have been a near perfect night. But she was stuck between two options. If Finnick and Annie knew about her feelings for Peeta, it was only a matter of time before someone slipped up and he found out. She could either do damage control with the two of them or tell Peeta. 

The latter option seemed far more daunting than the first. In fact, she wasn’t even sure if it was a real option. Peeta was too kind. Too generous. If she revealed her feelings and he didn’t requite him (and she was almost positive he didn’t), he would be riddled with guilt. Every time he looked at her, he would only see the pain he caused. It would ruin everything. He might never look at her the same way again. And he certainly wouldn’t crawl into her bed and take her in his arms. In fact, he would over analyze every touch, every word, every gesture. He’d never stop thinking about it. About how he was hurting her. It didn’t matter if they hadn’t had an honest conversation in years – she knew her best friend. He was sensitive and kind. He couldn’t live with himself. 

That left her with the first option. The coward’s way out. There was no guarantee she could convince Annie and Finnick otherwise when she all but confirmed it on the beach. So, what could she do? She toyed with the pleasant idea of hurtling herself off the second-floor balcony, but that would result in a broken leg at best, and then what? How would she explain that one? Perhaps the roof? That was an intriguing idea. 

She was still chuckling about it when the door opened softly behind her. Peeta stood in the doorway, damp from the shower, in nothing but a pair of basketball shorts. Was he trying to kill her? “The bathroom is yours if you want it.” He said. His eyes darted from her to the ground as he offered her a small half smile. 

“Thanks,” she replied. Now that he mentioned it, she was feeling sticky from the salt of the ocean. It would be nice to wash it away. Peeta moved forward and rested his forearms on the balcony. Maybe this was her chance to talk to him. “It’s a beautiful night,” she offered. 

Peeta hummed in agreement. He stared upwards into the night, his face scrunched in thought, and without looking at her said, “Why won’t you let me paint you?” 

Katniss turned to look at him. Even in profile, he was handsome. Strong jaw. Curls of blonde hair with the golden light of the balcony lamp filtering through them. A straight nose. She should be the one painting him, not the other way around. “I already told you why.” 

“No,” Peeta said, his voice suddenly strong. “I won’t accept that.” 

“What are you talking about?” 

He finally turned to face her, and she saw in his eyes a depth of emotion too far down for her to reach. “You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen, Katniss.” Her heart thumped in her chest. She never dreamed he would say something like that. Never in a thousand years. She wanted to say something. To finally reveal to him all her secrets. To tell him that he was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. But before she could, he spoke again. “Are we best friends?” 

“What?” 

“Are we best friends, Katniss?” He repeated. 

This was it. The conversation she had been both dreading and hoping for. The honesty Finnick thought they were lacking. But could she be honest with him, after all this time? After so much hiding? He looked at her expectantly. “We are,” she told him. 

“Are we?” He countered. There was an unfamiliar agitation in his voice. “Because you won’t let me paint you. You tip toe around me like I have the plague. I feel like I don’t know anything about you or your life.” 

Katniss didn’t know what to say. How long had he been feeling this way? And, more importantly, how long had they been leaving each other in the dark? “Peeta –,” she started. 

“No,” he cut her off. “Don’t. Don’t give me more meaningless platitudes. I can’t do it. We talk to each other about nothing and call it everything. When we were kids, you used to write me letters. You’d tell me everything. Every little detail. When you woke up. What you wore. What you had for breakfast. Everything. I saved them in a shoebox. When we got older, you’d tell me your dreams. You wanted to be a singer. Then, a zookeeper. Now, an environmental scientist. I remember when your favorite color was red. One day, you came to me and said that red had left your heart. Ever since then, it’s been green. When we were ten you told me you had a crush on Thom. He pulled on your braid and made you cry. You never looked back.” 

She remembered that. When she showed up at Peeta’s house, eyes rimmed in red, he brought her inside. Wiped her tears gently with his thumbs and made her frosted sugar cookies. By that point, she had nearly cried herself to sleep. He led her upstairs and tucked her into his bed. The smell of his sheets was so comforting and so Peeta that she was lulled to sleep nearly instantly. 

When she woke up, it was after dark. She wasn’t sure what woke her until she saw Peeta clambering loudly across the room, holding a package of frozen peas to his eye. He had gone out to find Thom and earned a black eye in return. Peeta looked as if he was about to speak again, but this time it was Katniss who cut him off. “You punched him for me.” She said. 

Peeta nodded in the moonlight, an amused smile playing at his lips. “My first and only act of violence.”  


“You still know me,” she told him. 

“I know the history of you. I know all the things you used to be. All the things you wanted to be. I know who you were before your dad died, and I know who you are after. But I don’t know you now. Not really. Can you honestly say you know me?” 

She did know him. She knew him to the point of insanity. Everything he had ever said and done was imprinted in her brain. She knew him better than she wanted to. Maybe that was the problem. He was staring her down, his eyes intense. She met them. “Your favorite color is orange. You never take sugar in your tea. You always double knot your shoelaces. You have to sleep with the windows open, even when it’s winter and we’re in my room. When we were kids, you wanted to be a baker. Then, you wanted to be a professional wrestler. Now, you want to be a painter. But you’re afraid you aren’t good enough. You’re afraid you’ll never make it. So, you major in business management instead. Your first kiss was Delly Cartwright in the sixth grade. She wanted to be your girlfriend and you let her down easy. You’re kind and generous. You give your last dollar to people on the streets, and you always buy Girl Scout cookies, even though yours are much better. You can’t stand to see anyone cry. You hate horror movies; they give you nightmares. And I know you’ve never forgiven yourself for your mom walking out. You think it’s your fault, no matter how many times I tell you it’s not.” 

Peeta was silent next to her, staring out at the night. She reached forward and placed her hand on his arm. His face jerked sharply in her direction. The heat from his arm pulsed between her fingertips, and she fought every urge in her to lean forward and crush her lips to his. To imagine how soft and warm they would be against her own. “I do know you, Peeta. I know you better than I know myself.” 

Peeta leaned closer to her, his eyes squeezed shut, and spoke quietly. “There are so many things I wish I could tell you, Katniss.” 

He was in pain. How had she not noticed before? The entire time, all the changes between them, all the confusing emotions… she was blinded. Thinking only of herself. And all the while, Peeta was in pain. But why? “You can tell me. You don’t have to hide from me.”

Peeta took her face gently in his hands. She could feel the warmth of his palms against her cheeks, and the shallow puffs of his breath on her lips. Her whole body was on fire, consumed by his warmth. By the overwhelming heat of his presence, of his hands on her. He pressed his forehead against hers. “I want to. Believe me, I want to.” All at once, he released her. She felt the loss of his hands immediately. He backed away, towards the stairs. “I just can’t. I’m sorry.” 

And then he left, taking off down the stairs. Her cheeks still burnt with the weight of his hands, but the feeling was ghostly. Almost as if he’d never really been there at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys enjoyed. As always, let me know what you want more of, what your thoughts are, and how you liked it! Thanks so much :)


	4. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting this a little later than I wanted to, but it's also a bit longer than my usual chapters, so hopefully that makes up for it. Per usual, let me know what you guys thought/liked/want more of, etc. Thank you so much for all the feedback! It really does keep me writing, and I'm so grateful for it. 
> 
> Hope you guys enjoy :)

Katniss laid in bed for hours listening to the hum of the air conditioner after Peeta took off. He was still out there, somewhere in the darkness, wandering. She tried not to think about him. To turn her thoughts elsewhere – the shower water on her skin, or the cool fabric of her sheets. It wasn’t too difficult at first, when the promise of him returning any minute still seemed realistic. But as the hours passed one by one without his reappearance, her thoughts became suffocating.

It was too late to call Prim. Too late to wake Finnick and Annie. Too late to go looking for him, when she had no idea where to start. Where did that leave her? Lying awake in bed, apparently, with nothing to do but stare at but the ceiling. She hated nighttime. That was when the worst thoughts hit, and she never had anywhere to run. 

When she was younger, it was images of her father trapped beneath the ice, his hands pressed against it, his eyes pleading with her. No matter how hard she beat the surface with her fists, no matter how many knuckles she broke or how much blood froze to the cold ice, she could never free him. He was stuck under the water until his lungs gave out and he drifted down into the dark depths, out of sight, lost forever. 

Now, it was Peeta. Thoughts of him out there, lost, unable to come back. Thoughts of him seeking comfort somewhere else. Thoughts of him deciding, in that moment, that their friendship had run its course. All of it played through her head endlessly, a carousel of horrifying images spinning around and around. 

There had to be someone she could call. She tried Peeta’s phone once, twice, three times, but each time she was met with the cheery, yet disheartening, sound of his voicemail. Who else would be awake at this time of night? That’s when it hit her. 

She dialed the familiar number and prayed that her suspicions were correct. It rang for a few long moments, but on the fifth ring, everything clicked into place and his surly voice greeted her. “Sweetheart,” he growled, “what a pleasure.” It was evident by his tone that it wasn’t a pleasure at all, but she didn’t care. Despite his grumblings, she knew he didn’t mind either. 

“Uncle Haymitch,” she replied, moving the phone away from her ear to glance at the clock. Just past midnight. Not nearly as late as she thought. “I was just calling to let you know I’m down the Cape. Thought you might want a visit from your favorite niece.” 

“You brought Prim?” 

“Very funny,” she said, pausing while he cackled at his own joke. “Are you still at the bar?” She strained to hear any telltale noises in the background; laughter or music or glass cups hitting the table. She came up empty. 

“For a little while,” he said. “Is everything okay? Where are you?”

“Hyannis,” she answered quickly. The layout of Cape Cod was fuzzy in her mind. When she was younger, visiting her aunt and uncle was a usual, if not weekly, occurrence. She knew the streets of Provincetown almost as well as the streets of her own town, and she was all too used to the familiar, comforting landscape of the Cape. But it was always her parents driving while she sat, sleepy and unaware, in the backseat with her iPod. There was never any reason for her to learn the streets and routes by heart, beyond a general outline, which left her knowledge limited at best. 

Haymitch grunted over the phone. “That’s about an hour from Provincetown, sweetheart. Why don’t you come in tomorrow?” 

She couldn’t help the crestfallen tremor in her voice. “Yeah. Okay. Sounds good. Thanks, Uncle Haymitch.” 

He paused, a moment of dead air between them, before he spoke again. His tone was measured, his words chosen carefully, and she could tell he was trying to offer her comfort as best he could. “Are you sure there’s nothing you want to talk about?” 

There were a million things she wanted to talk about, and far worse people to spill to than her trustworthy, drunken uncle - especially considering the fact that he might not even remember in the morning. But when she went to speak again, the words caught in her throat thickly, and she couldn’t force them out. Instead, she settled for, “I don’t know.” 

She couldn’t see Haymitch, but she could imagine his sour face, his reddened eyes and cheeks, his greased dark hair. She could see his eyebrows bunching together as he tried to figure her out. In some ways, they had always been on the same level. He understood her, even when she didn’t understand herself. Finally, he spoke. “Are you with the boy?”

The boy. His affectionate moniker for Peeta. “Yeah.” She answered simply. It was easier than getting into the whole, “Well he was here, but then we had the first truthful, intimate moment we’ve shared in years, and he sprinted into the night. I haven’t seen him in hours, but he’ll probably be back,” scenario. Much, much easier. 

“Why don’t you talk to him?” Haymitch offered. He adored Peeta. Katniss had been bringing Peeta along to the Cape since they were in kindergarten, and she swore that, even though he wasn’t blood related, Peeta was his real favorite. But she couldn’t resent it. Peeta was everyone’s favorite. He was personable and easy going, always knowing just the right thing to say and when to say it. Given the choice, she would choose Peeta over herself every single time. 

“Yeah. That’s a good idea.” 

Haymitch didn’t respond right away. But when he did, she knew he had figured her out. He always did. “Unless, of course, the boy is the source of your troubles.” 

She didn’t need to ask how he knew. Haymitch read her like an open book. Which, of course, she apparently was. If Annie and Finnick could figure her out, certainly her uncle could too. “He might be,” she squeaked. 

Haymitch sighed, as if he had been waiting for this, and said, “Tell you what. Bring the boy and whoever else you’re with to my place tomorrow. Free drinks. We’ll talk it through then. Sound good?” 

Free drinks at Haymitch’s cheekily named bar, “Stay Alive”. It sounded good to her and for the first time that night, she felt an ounce of comfort. “Thanks, Uncle Haymitch.” She said. 

“Anytime, sweetheart.” And he meant it. It was well past midnight and heading into the early hours of the morning. His bar was open late, but even this was a stretch. “Make a day trip out of it. Show 'em the sights, climb the Pilgrim Monument… y’know. Life has a way of working these things out. Maybe by the time you get to me tomorrow, you’ll have it all figured out.” 

He was rough around the edges, certainly, but he always knew the right thing to say. “Yeah, maybe.” 

“Goodnight, kiddo.” 

“Goodnight.” The phone went dead in her hands and she plugged it in beside her bed. What else was there to do but wait? At least she had a plan for tomorrow. Assuming, of course, Peeta ever bothered showing up again. She felt the absence of him pierce deep in her heart and travel out through her veins to every extremity of her body. It wasn’t just his physical absence that weighed on her. Mentally, he was checked out. Peeta, normally so mild and open with his feelings, had fled the scene without a moment’s notice - had left her standing on the balcony helpless, unable to do anything as he vanished into the night. 

That wasn’t the boy she knew. The boy she had grown up with. That was someone entirely different. It was as if, in that moment, he’d been hijacked, taken over. Her Peeta was never one to run from his emotions. He wore his heart on his sleeve and plunged headfirst into everything, no matter how scary or uncertain it might be. He was the antithesis of her, all bottled up and wound so tight she might never come loose. They were like night and day. But now? She didn’t even recognize him. 

Perhaps another side effect of their deteriorating friendship. 

She scrubbed her face roughly with her hands and stood, suddenly too itchy in her own skin to stay still. For the next half hour, she paced the room from corner to corner, eyes on the door, waiting. But Peeta didn’t show. Finally, when her eyes began to droop and her head turned fuzzy with exhaustion, she collapsed into bed. It registered only in the back of her mind that it was Peeta’s bed, from the faint, lingering smell of him on the sheets where he had left his clothes and bag for most of the day. Before long, the smell was erased completely, lost in the scent of starch and detergent, but she pretended it was still there. Wrapping the covers of his bed around herself was like being wrapped in one of his hugs, and before long, she drifted to sleep. 

When she woke again, it was to the loud banging of their door as it swung shut. “Shit,” a voice hissed. She registered somewhere in the back of her sleep muddled brain that it was Peeta’s voice. She also knew, somewhere deep in her brain, that she should get up. Move. Acknowledge him. But her limbs were so heavy against the mattress, and her overworked brain cried out for relief, so she just shut her eyes and gave in to her semi-conscious state. All she could think was that it was a good thing she had unlocked the door. 

“Katniss? Are you there?” She could hear him pressing his hands against the mattress, but she couldn’t feel any dips in the bed, so she assumed he must be searching the other bed. Her bed, where he expected her to be. He was beginning to sound more urgent. “Katniss?” 

His voice broke in relief, and she knew he must have spotted her. Again, she felt the urge to move. To reach out to him. But her brain wasn’t entirely convinced that she wasn’t dreaming and pulled her backwards into sleep. The last thing she registered were his hands against her face, smoothing her hair, and the soft curve of his lips pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. “Sleep tight, my love.” 

Then everything was dark once more. 

The next morning, she remembered only fragments of the night before. She knew that, somewhere between her lying on Peeta’s bed and the morning, he had come back to the hotel. She also knew that somewhere in that giant space of time, he had kissed her. On the forehead, to be sure, but still a kiss. 

My love. The words burnt in her ears. She wanted to tattoo them on her skin. But that part, she was less certain of. For all she knew, it was a dream. Peeta would never have called her that. Not when he had his own love on the other side of the country. Maybe he said, “my friend” or “my buddy” or “my chum”. Those were plausible, right? 

My love. It was no use. The words were implanted into her brain, and there was no getting them out. Reality or not, she was stuck with them. 

Peeta was gone when she woke up, but the sheets on her bed were mussed, and his bag was open on the ground beside it; proof that he had been there, sleeping across from her. He just wasn’t there anymore. Katniss was just about fed up with his disappearing act, when suddenly the door burst open and in came Peeta, drenched in sweat and still somehow looking like a GQ model. Not fucking fair.  


He was shirtless again, something that was starting to irritate more than arouse her - or maybe it was so arousing she had to channel her emotions into another compartment. It didn’t matter. Looking at his muscled chest, covered in smatterings of hair and shiny with a slick sheen of sweat, did nothing to ease her discomfort. Did he own shirts anymore? 

His hair was darkened and damp at the edge, stained brown by his own perspiration, and his already ruddy complexion was a blazing fire engine red. “Sorry to startle you,” he said, completely misinterpreting her response to his arrival as surprise, rather than poorly concealed lust. There was no way she was always this turned on by him. No way. If that was the case, she would have burst into flames years ago. Or ripped his clothes to shreds. Whichever. At the very least, she could take solace in his obliviousness. 

He walked past her and grabbed a handful of clothes from his bag, before disappearing into the bathroom. She fiddled with the tip of her braid and tried to come up with a good way to breach last night’s conversation without scaring him off again. Unsurprisingly, she came up with nothing. Maybe he didn’t want to talk about it. Maybe he just wanted to forget it happened. After all, he did spend almost an entire night wandering around in the dark avoiding her. Clearly if he wanted to talk about it, he would have stayed and talked about, instead of fleeing into the night like he was in a highspeed chase. No, there was no good way. 

Peeta emerged from the bathroom freshly showered and wearing clean clothes. His hair was damp and adorably mussed from the shower, which did nothing to help her arousal, but he was, at the very least, wearing a shirt. It was a casual blue button down that matched nicely with his tan shorts and his cerulean eyes. Classic, clean, and undeniably appealing. Katniss took a deep breath and reminded herself to focus. Talk to him, she urged herself. But about what? Certainly not about last night. That was off the table. He’d disappear out the door and she wouldn’t see him until the day they left. 

“Haymitch asked if we wanted to come into town today,” she told him, because it seemed safe. Today’s plans had nothing to do with last night, and Peeta loved Haymitch. Peeta’s easy going smile and affability smoothed out Haymitch’s rough edges like sandpaper to wood. 

Just as she suspected, his eyes brightened. “Really? To Stay Alive? When did you talk to him?” 

“Erm, last night,” she hedged, hoping he didn’t ask her too many questions beyond that. Until she had a proper way to approach their last conversation, she didn’t want anything to do with the night before. “He offered free drinks,” she tacked on at the end. 

Peeta snorted. “He does know we’re underage, right?” 

Katniss shrugged. “Probably. Do you really think he cares? Stay Alive is a cornerstone of Provincetown. It’s their go-to watering hole. You really think they’d shut him down?”  


“Well, I can’t fault your logic. Bring the fakes anyway, though. When are we going down? We should tell Finn and Annie.” He stood in front of the mirror, his back to her, and dragged a comb through his unruly curls while Katniss watched, mesmerized. How long had she wanted to run her hands through them, and let them tangle in the fine twists of blonde hair? How long had she wondered what it would look like between the olive tone of her thighs? Would the contrast be as delicious as she imagined? “Katniss?” 

She snapped out of her thoughts to find Peeta looking at her inquisitively through the mirror’s reflection. She ran her palms along her thighs and swallowed. “Um, anytime. He thought we should make a day trip out of it. Climb the monument, see the sights.” 

Peeta nodded in understanding, his hands still tangled in his hair. He bounced a little on the balls of his feet, and she was happy to see a hint of his usual excitement. Peeta was, by nature, an incredibly bubbly person, but the entire trip he had seemed almost sedative. Now, though, he looked buoyant, held afloat by the prospect of a day in Provincetown. “I love it there! That would be so fun.” He released his hair and stepped back to look himself over. Seemingly pleased with his appearance, he spun to face her. “You get ready, I’ll go knock on their door and see if they’re ready to go.” 

Katniss grinned, unable to resist his infectious excitement, and hopped up to gather her clothes. Peeta disappeared out the door. She could hear his heavy footfalls thudding down the balcony and stairs to Finnick and Annie’s room on the ground level. God, he was loud. It should have annoyed her, as an archer and occasional hunter, but it just endeared him to her more. He was impossible to dislike. Impossible not to love. 

Something Madge knew just as well as her. 

The thought put a sour taste in her mouth, and Katniss tried to remove it while aggressively brushing her teeth, but despite her scrubbing, it stayed with her. When she was done, she dressed in a forest green tank top and white shorts, braiding her hair quickly over her shoulder. It wasn’t much, she thought while assessing herself in the mirror, but it would do. 

Peeta returned while she was lacing up her Chuck Taylors with a small white bag in hand. “They said they’d be ready in ten minutes,” he told her, dropping the bag on the bed beside her. 

“What’s this?” 

“Bagels. Apparently, they offer a continental breakfast here. I did the best I could, but this was all they had left.” Katniss peered in the bag. He had a small assortment that appeared to be blueberry, pumpernickel, whole wheat covered in oats, and a poppy seed, but she couldn't be sure. “I think they buy the ones no one else wants,” Peeta laughed. 

Katniss wrinkled her nose and gingerly selected the poppy seed one. “Thanks,” she said sincerely. She wasn’t the biggest fan of poppy seed, or any of the others, but she was genuinely touched by his gesture. He was always so damn thoughtful, and she was never astute enough to repay him. Everything always felt too little, too late with her. 

Peeta reached into his pocket and pulled out a small package of cream cheese and a plastic knife. “No problem,” he said, dipping into the bag and pulling out the whole grain bagel. He turned around to place it on the dresser. “I’m gonna bring the leftovers to Finnick and Annie,” he said, and disappeared again. 

Katniss nodded absently, too engrossed in slathering cream cheese onto her bagel. She had a nice thick layer coating her bagel before she remembered Peeta. She cursed herself, once again irritated by her lack of forethought. Everything Peeta did was thoughtful, and effortlessly so. Meanwhile, she couldn’t even be bothered to save him half the cream cheese. She walked over to his bagel and carefully smoothed the remaining cream cheese on it, grateful that he, unlike her, didn’t like his bagel coated beyond recognition. It made no sense to her. The more cheese, the better. But Peeta liked the taste subtler, and hardly ever put much spread onto his bagels. In fact, he was downright sparing with it. 

By the time he came back, she was fretting that she might have put too much on. But he just smiled when he saw the bagel, his eyes meeting hers. “Thanks, Katniss,” he said, unaware of the way her heart fluttered when he looked at her. She would do anything for that lopsided smile. Anything. “It’s perfect.” 

Katniss blushed and glanced around the room for some way to divert his attention. Too much staring and he would start to notice the way he affected her. She stood abruptly and took a large mouthful of her bagel. It was chewy and thick with cream cheese, sliding down her throat like glue. “Maybe we should head out,” she croaked around her mouthful. Sexy. Really sexy. It was no wonder he wasn’t interested in her. 

Peeta took a bite of his own bagel and nodded in agreement. “Sure,” he said, gesturing towards the door. “Lead the way.” She didn’t know which was worse: going first, fully aware of his overwhelming presence behind her, or going second, and having to watch him the whole way down. Neither did anything to ease the uncomfortable wetness between her legs. She marched out the door, bagel in hand, fully and painfully aware of his thundering footsteps behind her. How loud could one man be? 

From the staircase, she saw Finnick and Annie already waiting by the car, each with bagels of their own. Annie reclined against the door and Finnick leaned over her, supported by one tanned arm, his face close to hers. Their smiles were electric. He placed a gentle kiss to her nose and Katniss took another large bite of her bagel, a half-hearted attempt to smother her ever present jealousy with cream cheese. Finnick pushed off the car when he saw them and opened his arms in greeting. “Well good morning, kids!” He chirped, looking far more rested than either of them. He held up his bagel in Peeta’s face and offered a starchy white smile. “Thanks for the world’s worst bagel, dickhead.” 

Peeta laughed good naturedly and held up his own oat covered bagel. “You want this one instead?” Finnick wrinkled his nose and turned away, as if physically put off by it. 

“Did I mention how much I love blueberry bagels?” He corrected, taking another bite of his strange, blue-brown pastry. “Because I do. I really do. Thank you Peeta Mellark, bringer of fine pastries.” 

Peeta laughed again. “A bagel isn’t a pastry, but you’re welcome anyways.” He unlocked the car and walked around the front to the driver’s side. By unspoken rule, Katniss climbed into the passenger’s seat, while Finnick and Annie hopped in the back. 

When they were all situated, Annie leaned forward between them and smiled at Peeta. “Your bagels are much better than this, you know,” she said. “I don’t know how you bring yourself to eat this.” 

“I’m really more of a cake guy,” Peeta replied modestly. Annie laughed and leaned back into her seat, Finnick moving to tuck her beneath his arm. Katniss swiveled back around in her chair and plugged the auxiliary cord into her phone, her finger moving to open her music app. She scrolled through her list of songs before finally settling on one she knew was Peeta’s favorite. The starting notes to Elton John’s Tiny Dancer filtered through the car, and Peeta immediately reached his hand forward to turn it up. “I love this song,” he said, smiling at her. 

Katniss smiled back, tucking a loose tendril of hair behind her ear and ducking down into her seat. The rest of the ride went by smoothly. She kept the music on a revolving playlist of Peeta’s favorites, her eyes directed out the window, watching the scenery blur by. She loved the scraggly trees and sandy roads, the rolling dunes with sparse grass and birds flying overhead. By the time they pulled into the condensed, winding streets of Provincetown, she was almost sad to have arrived. But soon her attention was caught up in a flurry of people and shops, crowded little bed and breakfasts and honking taxis with rainbows painted on the side. 

“I love it here,” Annie said, her head so close to the window she was nearly smushed against it. “So much diversity.” 

“That’s why my uncle moved here,” Katniss said, turning around in her chair to face Annie. Her eyes were still trained on the world outside. 

“He’s gay?” Finnick inquired, smiling innocently. 

Katniss shook her head. “No, Finn,” she laughed, “he’s not gay. Not everyone here is gay. But his wife is an artist, really flamboyant. They love her here.” She couldn't fault Finnick's logic. Provincetown was a popular hub for people of all different sexualities and gender identities. It welcomed and accepted them with open arms, and gave them a home in an otherwise cruel and unaccepting world. It was also a popular spot for eccentric artists. 

“Or they just love her wigs,” Peeta chimed in, turning back briefly to grace them with a heart stopping smile. 

Katniss nearly lost the ability to speak. “That too,” she squeaked, her face heating up. Only thoughts of Aunt Effie could calm the rising blush in her cheeks. She pictured an assortment of curly wigs, colored all sorts of vibrant pinks, oranges, and blues. Somehow, even that wasn’t working. Damn Peeta Mellark and his stupid, perfect smile. 

Luckily, Finnick interjected again, redirecting the car’s energy elsewhere. “You’re telling me he followed her all the way here just for a good roll in the sheets? Respect.” Annie and Peeta laughed, and Katniss did her best to join in, but thoughts of Peeta still swirled in her head. She ached low in her belly with a desire she couldn’t escape and mashed her head against the window in frustration. 

Peeta turned up a narrow one-way street at the orders of the GPS and followed it into a spacious parking lot outside a small museum. They paid the parking fee and Peeta parked the car in a spot close to the front, cutting the engine with a small, excited smile. “When was the last time we climbed this thing?” He said, turning to Katniss, his face eager and bright. 

She returned his smile and leaned away from the window, wiping at the red spot on her forehead from where she had pressed it to the glass. “Oh god, I’m not sure. Six or seven years ago, maybe?” 

Finnick leaned forward, his body protruding in the front seat between the two of them. “So, what exactly is this thing?” 

“Aren’t you a history major?” Katniss said wryly. 

Finnick attempted to glower at her, but on his naturally cheery face it looked more comical than anything else. “Well we haven’t gotten to everything yet,” he shot back. She smiled cheekily at him, feeling rather satisfied with herself. You’d never know it to look at him, but Finnick wanted nothing more than to be a history teacher. He had grand plans to work in a high school, teaching by day and coaching swim by night. Beneath his tan exterior and distracting good looks, he had a kind heart. Suddenly, she felt sorry for ribbing at him. 

“It’s the Pilgrim Monument,” she explained. “The pilgrims landed here before they went to Plymouth.” 

Understanding dawned on Finnick’s face. “But they couldn’t stay because the soil was too sandy. Crops would never grow.” He supplied, smiling victoriously to himself. 

Annie clasped his shoulder with one hand and ruffled his hair with the other. “See? You do know.” Finnick turned and kissed her sweetly on the cheek, and for the second time that day Katniss had to stifle her misplaced jealousy. She was happy for them. How could she be anything but? She’d never seen them any other way. In fact, she’d never even seen them fight. They were more than just a couple. They were one. 

“Basically, they landed here and signed the Mayflower Compact in Provincetown Harbor,” Katniss finished, opening her car door. She could see the tall stone monument from the parking lot, towering over them and the whole of Provincetown. When she was younger, Haymitch used to walk up the giant hill leading towards the monument with her. After buying their passes, they would stand at the base for a long time, staring straight upwards, trying to guess how many feet tall it was. They could’ve looked it up, but that would have ruined the fun. 

She shut her car door and began walking towards the museum. It was up several wide flights of concrete steps. Finnick, ever the jokester, ran around the side and jogged easily up the handicap ramp, beating all of them to the top. He stood by the doors smugly while the rest of them braved the steps. At the top, Peeta materialized at Katniss’ side, his face turned towards the monument. 

She wondered what he remembered of their trips to the top. If he still remembered racing each other up the seemingly endless series of ramps, touching as many engraved stones as they could on the way. The loser of their little race owed the winner a quarter, so they could look out one of the strategically placed binoculars at the top. Her favorite was the one overlooking the ocean; it was arguably the best view. From there, she could see all the way to the very tip of Cape Cod, the very tip of Massachusetts itself. 

Peeta, however, always preferred the opposite side, facing a series of endless green fields. Whenever she asked, he would tell her it was beautiful in its own right, and that it deserved to be looked at, same as the ocean. He was very fair that way. Did he remember all that, or was it lost in a vast sea of other memories, replaced by things far newer and shinier? 

He moved away from her and grabbed the door, holding it open for Finnick and Annie. She hesitated, unsure why, and stood watching him. He looked back at her and with a simple swipe of his hand, beckoned her forward. Beckoned her towards him. Her feet moved of their own accord, carrying her across the landing and into the door, Peeta hot on her heels. It was packed inside the small gift shop, and Katniss weaved her way through the crowd, careful not to stray too far from Peeta in the throngs of people. Suddenly, she became aware of a warm, solid pressure against the small of her back. Peeta’s hand. 

Her cheeks burned hotly as the gentle pressure of his hand guided her through the crowd, right up to the front desk. The woman behind the desk looked at them expectantly as Katniss surveyed the prices, and she waited for Peeta’s hand to fall away from her back. But it never did. He kept it there while she purchased their tickets, moving only to fish a ten-dollar bill out of his wallet. She was stricken when he didn’t put it back after. 

The small building was set up in three parts. The middle section was a small gift shop full of trinkets, jams, and free stickers proclaiming, “I Climbed the Pilgrim Monument!” The left side was a newer edition. It housed a gallery featuring local artists that Katniss, personally, cared little for, but she pointed it out to Peeta anyways, since she knew he would appreciate it. On the right sat a fairly expansive museum covering the early history of Provincetown, the building of the monument, and the expeditions of a local explorer who made several voyages to Alaska. That was her favorite part, other than the monument itself. Finnick was already standing in the mouth of the museum opening, his eyes glittering with wonder as he peaked inside. 

“You guys go ahead,” she told Finnick and Annie. “We’re going to check out the gallery.” Before she could think twice about it, she grabbed Peeta’s warm hand in her own and dragged him in the direction of the gallery. She waited for the crushing blow of him pulling his hand away, but instead, he interlaced their fingers and grasped her hand tighter in his own. The pit of her stomach twisted pleasantly, and she tried not to read too much into the simple gesture, despite the somersaulting of her heart. 

Peeta didn’t let go of her hand the entire way through the gallery. He towed her gently from painting to painting, murmuring into her ear about subtle nuances and smooth brush strokes, the little techniques that made each painting as unique as a butterfly’s wings. The quiet rapture in his voice left her breathless. By the time they reached the end of the gallery, she was desperately hoping more paintings would suddenly manifest. Anything to have him whispering into her ear, his breath fanning warmly against her cheek. But it was over, and he was forced to let go of her hand to open the door. She felt the loss of him immediately, but knew that she couldn’t let it show on her face and risk him running away again. Instead, she marched past him and decidedly kept her hands in the pockets of her shorts, weaving through the crowd and into the museum. 

The first room was dedicated to the Arctic expeditions of local explorer Donald MacMillan in the early 20th century. Katniss drifted from case to case of various artifacts – harpoons, journals, Alaskan dolls, the twisted tusk of a narwhal – until she came face to face with the stuffed carcass of a giant walrus. It stared at her from the other side of the glass with glazed eyes, stiff and impassive. Perfectly preserved, nearly one hundred years after its murder. She wavered slightly at the sight, wobbling backwards into the solid wall of Peeta’s chest. He gripped her at the elbows, steadying her, and craned his head around to check her face. “Hey, are you okay?” 

As a child, she didn’t understand that the huge, life like animals behind the glass were real. She thought they were stuffed like the plush dogs and dolphins in the gift shop. It never occurred to her that they were once living, breathing creatures. Now, she knew. Something about it upset her stomach, and she felt a queasy heat rising from her toes to her ears. 

Peeta’s face twisted in concern. “Come with me.” He wrapped an arm around her torso and guided her back out of the museum, through the doors at the back of the gift shop, to the path stretching towards the monument. He herded her towards a wrought iron bench and sat her down carefully, bending over on one knee to inspect her face from below. 

“The walrus,” she muttered. It was better outside. Fresh air filled her lungs with every intake of breath, and the nausea was rapidly dissipating now that she no longer looked the dead walrus in his glassy eyes. 

Peeta pushed a sweaty lock of hair away from her eyes. “You love animals, Katniss.” He said, clearly confused, his eyes probing hers for answers. 

Katniss snorted humorlessly. “Living animals.” 

“But… you’re a hunter,” he deadpanned. And he was right. She had killed more than her fair share of animals with arrows and snares. But that was different. It always felt different. 

Katniss struggled to articulate her feelings. “I know. But when we hunted… we always used what we killed. Even if it was squirrels. We made stew or something. It never went to waste. Why did that walrus die? So they could stick it in a museum, perfectly pickled for the rest of… however long people care, I guess. It’s not fair. If they weren’t going to use it, they should’ve just left it alone. It’s not fair,” she blubbered, dropping her head into her hands. 

Tears pricked the corner of her eyes, and she knew it was nonsensical to cry for an animal that had been dead since 1921, but it didn’t matter. The tears gathered at the corners of her eyes and spilled over without warning or care, streaming down her face and into the cups of her hands. Peeta pried her arms away from her face, surprised to see her tears. An emotion she couldn’t identify passed over his face, his features split as though he were cracking in half, before he reached forward and enfolded her into his arms. 

The solid steadiness of his chest was so comforting, so welcome, that she cried harder in relief, staining the light fabric of his shirt with her acidic tears. “Don’t cry, Katniss,” he whispered, rocking her back and forth, “it’ll be okay.”

But it wouldn’t be okay. Not in the way he thought it would. Sure, she would get over the walrus. She would come to terms with MacMillan’s senseless killing. It would pass through her, and her tears would ebb like the tides of the Atlantic. But the frustration she felt mounting inside her, growing more and more every day; that would never cease. It would just root deeper in the marrow of bones and infect her like a parasite, right up until it sucked her dry. Soon, there would be nothing left of her but a nicely preserved husk. Just like the walrus. 

And crying for a walrus was a lot easier than crying over the things truly bothering her. If she unleashed that dam, she would never stop. Not ever. “You don’t need to cry,” Peeta said quietly. “I’ve got you.” His arms were tight and firm around her, and gradually her tears began to subside. He wiped at the bottom of her eyes with the smooth pads of his thumbs and offered her a closed smile. She did her best to return a watery smile of her own. 

“I think I’m okay,” she told him. It wasn’t true. But she hoped that if she said it enough times, it would become true eventually. Just then, Finnick and Annie emerged from the museum, holding hands. They waved Katniss and Peeta over towards the monument. 

“You guys ready to climb?” Finnick yelled. 

Peeta looked from Finnick to Katniss. “You ready?” She didn’t want to move. She wanted to sit on that bench and submerge herself in her own parasitic thoughts. But when Peeta smiled and extended his hand, she knew she had no other choice. She would never turn him away. 

“Yeah. I think I am,” she said. And she took his hand, enjoying, if only for one moment, that she didn’t have to let go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys enjoyed! Not many questions got answered in this chapter, but I'm working on it!  
> Since I always write to music, I figured I might as well include some of the songs I listened to while writing the chapter. For this one it was: 
> 
> Something's Got to Give - Camila Cabello  
> Line of Love - The Minors  
> Doom Days - Bastille  
> We Find Love - Daniel Caesar


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